


Transplanted

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 02:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Ignis had arrived in the Kingdom of Lucis well before his intended role in the prince's life was decided.





	Transplanted

Ignis had arrived in Insomnia years before he was selected to be the prince’s companion. He had travelled from his home in the shades of Tenebrae at the behest of his parents, under the excuses that the city where his uncle worked would afford him better opportunities, better schools, a better distance away from the machinations of the Niflheim empire beating at the borders of the Oracle’s home. He had arrived in the kingdom of Lucis with his parents, and in the Citadel with his uncle, and the lingering scent of sylleblossoms in his mind. 

He had not met the prince until he was five, and that had been an accident. 

His uncle had told him to wait in the library of the Citadel while he attended to court matters. He had obeyed, as always, as was expected. He had waited, with a book of his own, for his uncle to finish with his duty on the king’s ruling council, and nearly missed the governess coming in. He had almost missed the small boy the woman set down in the children’s section with him— so intent on his own book. 

He had almost missed the small boy himself, until there was a small hand on his open book and an unruly mop ad dark hair shrouding bright blue eyes. He had almost missed the happy, childish “hi!” 

Ignis had never seen other children in the Citadel. He forgave himself later for not realising that this could have only been the prince. And not some lost toddler set down to play. 

“Hello.”

The other child and his happy, constant stream of chatter had become almost a highlight for the days when his uncle had left him in the library as he worked. Ignis had found that he liked the company, the audience to practice his own reading, the boy’s warmth pressed against him as the child napped. It had almost made the strangeness of the city, the absence of his parents, seem bearable again, even as the smell of familiar flowers faded from his memory. 

There were always sylleblossoms in his uncle's house. The delicate flowers now associated with cut stalks and carefully chosen ribbons. A small reminder of a heritage and home they had sacrificed for service in the Lucian court. Years later, he would wonder if the fires that took Tenebrae had burnt up all the flowers too. He would look at the carefully cut bouquets decorating his uncle’a house, now tied with mourning blacks, and wonder if there was anything left of his parents in the stolen kingdom of his birth.

But when he was officially introduced to the prince after turning six, he had brought a flower as a gift. He had been told it was an important meeting, that it was going to be a big event, and that he had to impress the king and the prince. He remembered being told that this was a test, and it was his uncle’a reputation on the line, that he had to do well for his family. 

He remembered the petals falling from his gift as he trembled before King Regis’ kind smile and kinder eyes. 

He remembered nearly dropping the flower he intended to gift to his prince as the familiar small boy beamed and reached for him. He remembered the relief that washed through him when he saw that familiar beaming face and felt small arms around him. 

“Iggy!”

Ignis remembered holding on to his small friend and barely registering the king’s laugh. “I guess you've already met then.”


End file.
